In a remote corner of the world, ancient astronauts landed from a distant planet, with a gift for mankind.... The Phoenix. For a thousand years he has waited. Suspended in time. Now he's awakened to complete his mission. He searches for his partner, Mira. For only she knows his ultimate assignment on Earth. Dependent on the sun for his strength and survival. Endowed with asuperior intelligence. He has fully developed the powers of the human mind. Relentlessly pursuedby those who seek to control him, he must stay free....  The Phoenix is a Mark Carliner Production.

Benny sighed. Stepping down from the Greyhound bus, he glanced upward at the monstrous buildings towering over him. Air pungent with the stench from car exhaust fumes made breathing difficult. Benny coughed to clear his lungs. "What am I doing here?", he silently wondered. "Gather your people," came the unvoiced reply. "But here?", he questioned, only to realize that his very presence had already answered the question.

A gruff voice interrupted his contemplations. "Hey buddy! Move outta the way! You're blocking the exit," yelled the burly bus driver. Roused from his pondering, Benny glanced back over his shoulder and saw the people waiting to get off. Hiking the duffel bag higher onto his shoulder he apologized. Then, without conscious thought, he turned to his right and started down the street.

Although sunny, with November came the cold and Bennu zipped up his jacket a little higher. The enormous structures which surrounded him did little to alleviate the coldness, but instead enhanced it as their shadows reached into the far recesses creating an ominous feel to the surroundings. "Or is that feeling coming from inside?", Bennu wondered. From all around him Bennu could sense, no -- feel, the unhappiness and suffering of others. Their sorrow and pain called out to him in vast numbers. In return his heart cried out in want and compassion. He wanted to help them all, but there were so many of them and only one of him. With great effort he pushed their cries to the back of his mind.

Morning stretched into afternoon, then finally evening as still he walked, his feet carrying him toward some unknown destination. Exhaustion crept into the very outer reaches of his body as brassy neon signs, glaring their wares at him, went unnoticed. How long had it been since he had last breathed in the radiance of the sun -- since he had last eaten? He couldn't remember.

Time and cognizant thought had long since ceased to exist as he merely concentrated on placing one foot in front of the other. The life-giving sun had set early on this autumn day to be replaced by an Yago moon as Bennu continued onward, some unknown sense selecting his path.

Although the presence of his surroundings went unnoticed, his presence in this unsavory part of town did not. A sleazy-looking huckster called to him from the doorway of a tainted establishment. "Hey buddy, you look as thought you could use a good time. Come on in, we got some of the finest looking ladies on the block all eager to dance their little hearts out just for you. They might even be willing to show you an extra time, if you know what I mean?" If Bennu heard, he gave no indication and continued on. An echo of obscenities and crude innuendoes faintly followed him.

A few doors down came a similar occurrence. A bleach blonde in a gaudy-looking outfit confronted him with an offer of "How about some personalized attention, gorgeous? I'm very reasonable." An ebony beauty wrapped in a short mink jacket joined in by saying "Honey, I'd give it to you for free." Bennu went by without even a glance in their direction.

Several blocks later Bennu still proceeded as if drawn by some unknown force. His painfully slow stride reflected total exhaustion. Suddenly the doors to a bar he was passing burst open. A black man collided with Bennu, knocking him to the ground. He eyed Bennu with irritation. "Hey man, watch where you're walking." Then, striding to his car, he drove of, wheels squealing in the night.

Sitting up, Bennu painfully reached for his duffel bag which had been jarred loose upon impact. Another pair of hands also reached for it. Their owner knelt beside Bennu. "Here." It was gently placed in his hands. Wearily looking up at his benefactor, Bennu's gaze met that of a woman in her early twenties. While her overdone makeup and style of dress indicated her profession, Bennu sensed an individual much different than she appeared.

"Thank you."

She helped him regain his feet. "Are you all right?"

Lines of exhaustion were etched in the pale coloration of his normally golden-toned face. "I'm fine," he lied.

The woman seemed ready to repudiate his statement, then hesitated. "Well, if you're sure."

"Yes, thank you." For the first time that day Bennu became aware of something other than the insatiable need to press onward. He stood there for several minutes watching the retreating figure as images of a lonely and troubled life passed before his mind's eye.

With renewed vigor he began following her. A few minutes later she went into a small corner grocery store. As she talked with the elderly couple behind the counter, Bennu watched through the store's front window. He no longer needed to continue. He had found what he was searching for.

Yet this thought brought little comfort as the hairs on the nape of his neck started to rise. Suddenly, two huge armed men, wearing brightly colored ski masks, burst forward from the rear of the store. Grabbing the startled young woman, one gunman pointed the muzzle of the revolver at her head while the other roughly seized the old man by the shirt front, demanding money. Outside , Bennu heard the conversation plainly as if he were standing in the room.

"Come on, Pops, give me the money or my friend here will blow the little lady away. Then you and your wife will be next." The old man began fumbling with the cash register as in his panic he became quite clumsy. His wife stood beside him, nervously fingering her apron as tears silently rolled down her withered cheeks. Impatiently, the gunman grabbed the small wad of bills. "Is this all there is? Old man, you,d better not be holding out on me."

"That's all there is," the old man stammered nervously. "I swear it."

The gunman sneered. "Then we'll take this for our trouble." He took the man's wristwatch. "And this." He reached for the woman's wedding ring.

"No!", the old man protested, going for the gunman.

Everything seemed to happen at once as Bennu, watching from his vantage point, saw the gunman preparing to fire and exploded into action. A bell tinkled from above, announcing his presence. Stopping mid-stride he raised his arm, palm facing outward toward the assailants. From the very depth of his being Bennu called on the last remnants of life-giving power. A streak of brilliant white light shot out from his palm, knocking the menacing gunman backwards into his partner and the girl. All three fell to the floor in a heap as money rained down upon them. The girl crawled clear and ran behind the counter just as the gunmen were regaining their senses. Nearby the smoking weapon lay, hot to the touch.

Bennu, exhausted from his efforts and depletion of his resources, leaned against the counter for support. The two men staggered to their feet and charged at him in rage. Too weak even to move, Bennu was unable to protect himself when the first man picked him up bodily and threw him into a pile of canned goods. Bennu and the cans fell with a resounding crash. The second assailant finished the job by sending a rack of fresh produce cascading down on the inert form. Sirens could be heard coming from outside, moving quickly in their direction, as they turned threateningly back toward the proprietor. Reconsidering they bolted out the door. A few moments later an ambulance passed by, continuing on in a westward direction.

The elderly couple stood in shocked silence, protectively holding each other, and realized the danger had passed. "Are you all right, Momma?", the man asked, concerned. She nodded. "Angela?", he questioned with a glance.

"I'm fine, Mr. Pastani." In unison they remembered Bennu, who lay still beneath mounds of melons. Uncovering him, for a moment they feared he was dead. The only color to his ghastly white complexion was an ugly black and blue welt on his forehead. Mr. Pastani checked for a pulse, nodding in relief when he found it.

"The poor dear," Mrs. Pastani said sympathetically as Bennu stirred, moaning slightly. Slowly opening his eyes, it took a few minutes before the dark haze that clouded his vision cleared. He smiled what he hoped was reassuringly. It didn't work.

"Are you all right, young man?", inquired Mr. Pastani, helping Bennu to his feet.

Swaying slightly, Bennu answered. "Everything seems to be functioning. Yes -- thank you."

"No, " the elderly man protested. "It is we she should be thanking you. I don't know what we would have done if you hadn't come along when you did." He gave Bennu the once-over. You're not from around here, are you?"

"No, I just got into town today."

"Lucky thing for us. We're very grateful for what you did. Even if I don't understand how you did it."

A smile played at Bennu's lips. "It was nothing."

"Indeed it was," Mr. Pastani insisted. "And we would like to return the favor."

"That really isn't necessary," Bennu protested.

"But it is! We don't have much but you're welcome to..."

"Thank you, I'd love to stay for a few days."

An awkward silence lay heavy in the air. "How did you know what I was going to say? Never mind," he said, shaking his head. "I don't think I want to know. Momma, why don't you take...?"

"Bennu," he supplied.

"Bennu? That's an odd name. Why don't you take Bennu in the back room and show him where the cot is. He looks as though he could use some rest. After all this excitement I think we all could. This mess...", he indicated the debris, "can wait until tomorrow."

Don't you think we should let a doctor take a look at that lump of yours?", asked Angela.

Bennu was touched by her concern. "It's nothing -- really, I'll be fine in the morning." Resigned, she bade everyone good night.

Mrs. Pastani showed Bennu to the back room, leaving Mr. Pastani to lock up for the night. Task completed, he started to head for bed, then noticed the gun sticking out from beneath a shelf. Retrieving it, he looked at it thoughtfully, then hid it behind the counter. Satisfied, he turned out the lights and followed his wife upstairs to bed.

Bennu woke early just as the sun was cresting on the horizon. Outside, he quickly found his way to the tenement roof by means of a fire escape. The chill of this November morning went unnoticed as he bared his chest to bask in the life--giving energies of the sun. With the return of his strength came the return of his formally golden--toned color. Renewed, he began healing his injuries and the telltale marks disappeared. Unwillingly, he left the roof and his source of continued subsistence.

Returning downstairs he began clearing away the destruction. Soon not a trace of the events of the previous night remained. Mr. Pastani came downstairs as he was finishing up.

"My, but you're up earl..." He stopped, staring in astonishment at his once-again tidy store. "How did you -- when did you find time to ..." he stuttered, totally flustered. "Why?"

Eyes sparkling in amusement, Bennu told him. "I like to work. It's good for the body and mind. Besides," he grew serious, " I'm grateful to you and your wife for allowing me to stay here. I spent the last of my money on the bus ticket to get here, and I was beginning to wonder where I was going to spend the night."

Mr. Pastani lay a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Young man, after what you did for us last night, you're welcome to stay here as long as you need to." With a mischievous wink he added, "Especially if you keep working like this." Catching the implied humor, Bennu laughed as Mr. Pastani showed him upstairs, where he said Momma had breakfast waiting.

The table, laden with delicious-looking food, was set for five. "Is someone else joining us?" Bennu inquired.

Mrs. Pastani looked up from where she stood frying more pancakes. "Yes, Angela and her daughter will be here shortly."

Pouring the coffee, Mr. Pastani added, "Angela is taking some day classes at the local college. She's going for her..." He paused, trying to remember. "What is it called, Momma?"

"G.E.D.," she supplied.

"That's right, he said, snapping his fingers. "I never can remember that. Her first class starts at eight o'clock, so we watch her little girl until the bus picks her up for kindergarten at nine."

"Enough talk, Poppa, " Mrs. Pastani scolded. "I'm sure Bennu must be hungry this morning."

"I'll say he should be. Would you believe that he has already cleaned up the mess downstairs?"

"My heavens, already?" She pinched Bennu's cheek. "What a nice young man you are." Bennu was saved from further embarrassment as Angela, with daughter in tow, breezed in with a cheery good morning. The little girl paused as she spotted Bennu.

"Why, good morning!" he greeted her, smiling. Yet a note of discord went off in the back of his mind. He perceived an aura of familiarity about her. Perplexed, he asked her, "What's your name?"

"Mira," she told him in a little voice.

"That's it!", he told himself. "She not only has the same name, but bears a striking resemblance to her." Sadness shadowed Bennu's features.

"What is it, son?" Mr. Pastani asked, concerned.

"Nothing," Bennu shook away the remembrance. "It's just that she..." His voice faltered. "I once knew someone who was also named Mira. She -- died," he added by way of explanation.

A hush momentarily fell over the kitchen, each sharing Bennu's pain. The spell was broken only when Mira went to Bennu, crawled up on his lap and gave him a great big hug. Bennu held on tightly for a moment, then released her. Sitting back, her eyes sparkled in response. "I'm hungry!" she loudly proclaimed.

Relieved, everyone laughed. "Well, there's plenty to eat," said Mrs. Pastani. "One good thing about owning a grocery store is that you never run out of food. So help yourself." Even though, due to Mira's presence, they carefully avoided the subject of the attempted robbery, breakfast was a pleasant affair which passed much too quickly.

Running late, Angela downed the last of her coffee, gave her daughter a quick hug, and hurried out the door. Wiping his mouth with a napkin, Mr. Pastani rose, saying, "I'd better get downstairs and open the store."

"Can I help?" inquired Bennu.

Mr. Pastani eyed the young blond man with genuine affection, amazed at how quickly he had become extremely fond of Bennu. "I'd like that." Mira wanted to help too, but much to her dismay was instructed to finish her breakfast. Pleadingly, she looked to her new friend for help.

"Sorry Sunshine," Bennu told her apologetically. "But I agree. You want to grow up big and strong, don't you?" With a slight pout she nodded. "Well then, you be a good girl and finish your meal, and I promise that's what will happen." She still didn't look convinced but brightened considerably as Bennu promised he would see her again before she left. Turning to Mrs. Pastani, he thanked her for a wonderful breakfast.

Pleased, she told him, "You're more than welcome, Bennu. But please, do me a favor and call me Momma, everyone does." With a broad smile and a promise that he would, he followed Mr. Pastani downstairs.

"Mira's a beautiful child, "Bennu commented later while carrying crates of fruits and vegetables outside for display. "Angela appears to have done well in raising her."

"Yes, she has." Mr. Pastani agreed. "Especially considering the circumstances. It hasn't been easy for her, though."

Bennu's eyebrow rose slightly in thought. "I imagine not."

Mr. Pastani paused in his work, remembering aloud. "Angela was no more than a child herself when she had Mira. Young, in love and without realizing the consequences, she got involved in a situation that she wasn't mature enough to handle. When her parents found out they reacted with pride instead of love and threw her out of the house. With nowhere else to turn she came to us. After Mira was born Angela found herself faced with an enormous responsibility. We tried to help as much as we could, but between business steadily declining and other problems, there wasn't a lot we could do. So she had to quit school and go to work. But without a diploma she couldn't find a job that would pay enough to support her and Mira. The burden of such responsibility made her grow up fast. She took the only job available, the only one she didn't need a diploma for; she became a prostitute."

"And Mira's father?" Bennu inquired. "What was he doing all this time?"

"Antonio?" Mr. Pastani scoffed. "He claimed to love Angela, but left as soon as he found out she was pregnant. Didn't even have the decency to support his own daughter. He hasn't even seen her since she was born. I just don't understand it." Mr. Pastani continued, shaking his head, "Antonio, my nephew, used to be such a good boy. My younger brother and his wife never had a moment's trouble with him. But since they were killed in a car crash, he's turned bad. Momma and I have tried, but we can't do a thing with him. He quit school and started running around with a bad crowd -- a gang called the Bandits. He moved out one night, and we haven't seen him since. I shudder to think what he's getting into. I don't know what more we can do. It's a shame. Angela is such a lovely girl, and no father could ask for a more delightful and incredible child than Mira."

Bennu smiled at the mention of Mira. "I couldn't agree with you more. Don't worry. It will all work out." Mr. Pastani looked at him questioningly. "I promise."

Just then a yellow van pulled up in front of the store, honking its horn. "My goodness! It's nine o'clock already; where did the time go?" Bennu shrugged in response, even though he knew very well where it went.

Mira burst out the door with Mrs. Pastani in tow. Giving the Pastani's a goodbye hug she turned to Bennu. Squatting down, he took her hands in his own.

"Goodbye, Sunshine. I'll see you later."

"Promise?" she asked doubtfully.

"Promise." Bennu smiled as he saw Mira still waving as the van continued out of sight.

The day continued to pass quickly. Later that afternoon Mr. Pastani engrossed in his ledgers, looked up as the small bell warned of visitors. Unfortunately it wasn't a prospective customer, but two of Frank Vega's henchmen. Rico, a large man with dark unruly hair, was followed into the store by a man that he had not seen before. Looming over Rico by about five inches, an ugly scar ran the entire length of his face. There was no mistake about it, both were there to cause trouble, and Mr. Pastani knew exactly what kind.

"What are you doing here? It's not Friday."

Rico nonchalantly leaned on the counter. "Mr. Vega heard you had some trouble last night."

"So,what about it?"

"So," the new thug replied intimidatingly. "Mr. Vega wants to make sure that it won't interfere with your insurance payment.."

"Don't worry, it won't."

"Oh yeah!" Rico questioned. "Why not?"

"Because Bennu stopped..." His voice trailed off, not wanting to get Bennu involved.

"Bennu," Rico repeated, turning to his partner. "That must be the long-haired hippie we heard about."

Angrily, Mr. Pastani came to Bennu's defense. "He's not a hippie. He's a nice, decent young man who's not afraid to help others. Or to stand up to scum like you and your boss."

Rico leaned menacingly across the counter. "You just make sure that he doesn't interfere with our little arrangement." As a parting word of warning he added, "And if I were you, I wouldn't get any ideas from that new friend of yours. Otherwise it could prove deadly for both of you."

Bennu silently appeared in the doorway. "Do you want to tell me what that was about?"

Startled, Mr. Pastani whirled to face him. Ashamed, he busied himself with some paperwork. "It was nothing," he replied. "Just a couple of dissatisfied customers."

Bennu looked skeptical. "It was more than that. They were threatening you. Why?"

Sighing, the old man seemed to age before Bennu's eyes. His shoulders slumped in resignation. "You're right, of course. It was foolish of me to think that I could keep anything from you. Not that I wanted to, you understand," he added sincerely. When Bennu nodded, indicating that he did understand, Mr. Pastani continued. "For years a man named Frank Vega has been dealing in what you might call insurance. He charges all the store owners a fee to insure against vandalism or personal injury. The joke is that it's himself he protecting us against."

"Isn't there anything that can be done about it?"

Mr. Pastani shook his head negatively. "You miss a payment and your store is liable to burn down. Or you, or a member of your family, might meet with a serious accident. No, there's nothing. The police either don't give damn or are on Vega's payroll." He sighed heavily. "For years I've let these crooks rob me of not only my money, but also my dignity. I wish I had the courage to stand up to him and his kind."

"I tend to believe that a peaceful solution is always preferable to a violent one. Unfortunately," Bennu added under his breath, "sometimes violence can't be avoided."

"What do you mean?"

"There are times in our life when certain situations arise and we are forced to choose which path to follow."

"How do we know which one to take?"

"The answer to that lies within ourselves. We must learn to look inward, to the golden light burning brightly in all of us, for the solution."

Mr. Pastani considered his words. "You mean that we must search our hearts for the answer?"

Bennu smiled. "Something like that."

Mr. Pastani marveled at Bennu's stamina. Never had he seen a man willingly work so hard and appear to enjoy doing it. At six, Mrs. Pastani called down that supper would be ready in twenty minutes. Closing earlier than usual, they ascended the stairs to the heavenly aroma of home-made spaghetti and garlic bread.

Setting an extra place, Mrs. Pastani explained, "I've asked Angela to join us. She'll be over as soon as Mira's sitter shows up."

As if on cue, Angela appeared in the doorway with Mira in hand. Noticing her troubled expression, Mrs. Pastani asked, "What is it, dear?"

"Mrs. Kreppel called," she explained. "She's come down with the flu and won't be able to watch Mira tonight."

"No problem," Mr. Pastani assured Angela. "We'll be happy to watch Mira for you. Won't we, Momma?"

"Of course we will," she readily agreed. "So don't you worry. Now, why don't you sit down and dive in while I set another place for Mira."

"For Dolly, too," Mira piped up, indicating that her doll was also hungry.

"My heavens, how could I ever forget Dolly?" Mrs. Pastani chuckled lightly.

Mira insisted on sitting next to Bennu. He, in turn, tucked in her napkin and Dolly's, which delighted Mira tremendously. Supper was delicious, and everyone thoroughly stuffed themselves. Mr. Pastani exclaimed that he believed Mira got more on her than in her. Then, as Mrs. Pastani took Mira to clean up and get ready for bed, the adults spoke over coffee and, incredibly dessert.

I really appreciate you watching Mira for me, "Angela was saying. "I just hope it isn't too much trouble."

"Nonsense, we love having her," exclaimed Mr. Pastani. "But instead of working tonight, why don't you and Bennu take in a movie?" he suggested. "I think it would do you a world of good, my dear, and I think you both deserve a night off."

Angela smiled shyly at Bennu. "What do you think?"

"I'd like that.." Bennu agreed.

Just then Mira came toddling out dressed in her pajamas. Crawling onto Bennu's lap she asked him to read her a bedtime story. Bennu looked to Angela. "Would you mind?"

"Of course not. And I know Mira would enjoy it."

Hoisting her onto his shoulders, Bennu carried Mira into the bedroom and settled her under the warm covers. While doing so, the delicately-wrought amulet, which usually lay nestled upon his chest, slipped from beneath his shirt to lay exposed in the dim lighting of the room.

"Pretty," exclaimed Mira when she saw it. "It looks just like the birdie in my dreams. What is it?"

Bennu was not surprised by Mira's statement. He looked fondly down at her. "It's called a phoenix. It's supposed to be the only one of it's kind in existence. Legend has it that it lives five to six hundred years, then burns itself on a funeral pyre, only to rise from the ashes anew, ready for another long life."

As Mira strove to understand his explanation, her eyes clouded with a look of aged wisdom. When she spoke it was with a maturity much beyond her years.

"You are like the phoenix, aren't you, Bennu? One of a kind, all alone in your task. How lonely it must be for you. But take heart. Although there are those who would stop you, there are those who are just waiting for your guidance. Gather your people, Bennu, for you are not alone."

Bennu shook his head as if to clear it. Had he heard correctly? Looking once again at Mira, he saw only a child peering expectantly up at him. Confused, he momentarily wondered at such a profound statement coming from one so young. "I must be dreaming," he mused. "Either that or perhaps it was a incident contrived by Yago. No," he squelched the idea. "Not even one as evil as he could control the inner light of one so pure. More than likely it was Omni making me realize my inner doubts and fears."

"Bennu," Mira pityingly called, swiftly bringing him back to reality. "You said you'd read me a story."

And so he did. Angela watched silently from the doorway as Mira was lulled to sleep by the tranquil quality in Bennu's golden-toned voice. She joined him by the bedside as he rose and pulled the covers a little higher around the sleeping child.

"Good night, Sunshine," he whispered.

Giving her child a gentle kiss on the forehead, Angela led Bennu from the room. They returned to the kitchen where Mrs. Pastani was busily clearing the table.

"Let me give you a hand with that," Angela offered.

"Nonsense," Mrs. Pastani replied. "You two young people go see your movie. Poppa can give me a hand with these dishes."

"Are you sure?" Bennu questioned. "We really don't mind helping."

"I'm positive. Now go, enjoy yourselves, and don't worry about Mira. She can spend the night with us."

Angela shook her head in disbelief. "I really don't know how to thank the both of you."

"You can thank us by having a good time," replied Mr. Pastani, ushering them out the door. While doing so, with a wink, he slipped Bennu a couple of dollars. Bennu nodded his gratitude.

The movie was not particularly good, but Angela could not recall the last she enjoyed an evening more. Even the bite of the crisp evening air could not chill the pleasant warmth which radiated within her. Walking along the avenue, it became abundantly clear, the life she would have to return to tomorrow. And of the life she had traded in for the sake of her daughter. As this realization dawned, she stopped abruptly, looking upward into the sensitive embrace of Bennu's blue eyes. "A person could drown in the depths of those eyes,"she thought. Aloud she said, "Bennu, I don't want the evening to end just yet. Couldn't we...," she stopped, embarrassed.

Bennu's heart wrenched with sadness. "Let's get a cup of coffee," he suggested.

Her eyes relayed gratitude as they entered the small piano bar they had been standing in front of.

Upon entering, the bartender called out a greeting to Angela from behind the counter. Selecting a table near the back, the couple passed by a grey-haired black piano player who nodded hello. Squeezing past several couples who were dancing, they found a table in the subtly-lit bar. A tall buxom redhead came and took their order, while all too obviously giving Bennu the eye. She seemed disappointed when he did not give her a second glance.

Quietly they sat, simply enjoying each other's company. Bennu sensed Angela's need to talk, but knew she was not yet ready and did not force the issue.

Unfortunately the pleasantness of the evening was to end abruptly. Five tough-looking individuals wearing blue jeans and black jackets with the name "Bandits" in red lettering on the backs entered the bar. The tallest one, a good-looking dark-complexioned man with black hair, commandeered a seat at the bar. Receiving no protest from the patron who was sitting there, he ordered a round of beers for the group.

Several minutes later the piano player took a break. The dance floor cleared, leaving a visual path from the counter to the back of the bar where Bennu and Angela sat.

Upon spotting them, a Bandit named Carlo nudged the man sitting at the counter and nodded in their direction. Inhaling sharply, he slammed the glass of beer down on the bar, its contents splashing onto the counter.

Rising, he headed toward the couple who occupied his attention, the others following closely. Arriving at their table, a sarcastic smile grew on his face.

"Well Angela," he said in a tone of ridicule. "I see you're hitting the big time now. Aren't you going to introduce me to your pimp?"

Infuriated by the man's obvious attempts to hurt and insult Angela, Bennu started to rise.

Angela placed a restraining hand on his arm, and even though she said, "Bennu, please don't. He isn't worth it," he knew what she really meant was "I'm not worth it."

Echoing her thoughts, the dark haired man replied, "Well, baby, neither are you."

As Bennu watched them leave, the seething enmity slowly diminished from his eyes. Resuming his chair, his anger was replaced by concern for Angela. "Are you okay?"

She tried, unsuccessfully, to pass off the incident as an every-day occurrence. "I'm fine. In a profession like mine you have to get used to remarks and people like that. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'd like to freshen up a bit."

After she left, the grey-haired piano player took her seat at the table. Taking a swig of his beer, he set it on the table. "My name's Joshua, " he introduced himself. "You know, Angela's a nice kid. I'd hate to see her get hurt, if you know what I mean."

Bennu took an instant liking to the older gentleman. "Believe me, Joshua, I'd never do anything to hurt her, or Mira."

"I'm glad to hear that, young fella. It's bad enough she has to do what she does, without being hurt in the bargain. Lord knows she's been hurt enough as it is."

"I see you've met Joshua," Angela`s voice came from behind them. Both men rose as she took her seat.

"Yes, I have." Bennu replied.

"I like your friend," Joshua told her. "He's a good man."

She looked fondly at Bennu. "Yes, he is," she sincerely agreed.

"Well, I'd better get back to work. You kids enjoy yourselves. It was nice meeting you," he nodded to Bennu, leaving.

Soon the gentle tinkling of the ivories could be heard as he went into melodic strains of music surrounding them, as Bennu felt a compelling need to comfort the woman whose tears now flowed unabashedly. Protectively, he reached out to hold her. Aware of his motion, Angela glanced upward in gratitude. Reflected in those teary eyes, Bennu saw it all.

"You still love him, don't you?"

Unable to speak, she merely nodded.

Silence reigned the remainder of the evening as no words were needed between them. Bennu's golden light protectively reached out to cradle her fragile heart from further harm. The effort weakened him, but he took strength in the knowledge that she was no longer crying, that her body no longer continued to tremble. Still, there had to be more he could do. He had been led here for a purpose; his mission was not yet over.

Unable to sleep, Bennu lay upon the small cot, hands clasped behind his head, vacantly staring upward toward the ceiling in the darkened room. Turbulent thoughts of Angela's plight and the still overwhelmingly painful memory of his recent loss kept at bay the rest he so desperately needed.

"At least she has her daughter," he thought. "And the Pastani's. Separated by miles and years, Mira was my only remaining link with home. With her gone, I am truly alone." He felt a heaviness descend upon his heart. "How can I expect to heal others, a whole world, when I can't even heal myself?" He closed his eyes as if to shut out the despair. "How can I expect to guide them, when I myself am lost?"

"Are you, Bennu?" A familiar voice invaded his thoughts. From out of the dark recesses of the room Omni appeared. "Or is the real problem that you've come to care too much for the people of this world?"

"There are so many. Their minds cry out in vast numbers. I am but one man. I alone cannot possibly help them all. And yet..."

"You want to," Omni finished for him.

Bennu bowed his head in assent.

"Yours is a kind and generous heart. Yet even it is not large enough alone for the task. But are you truly alone?"

Bennu protested. "You are not always there when I need you."

"I am with you, when you truly need me."

"It's not enough. Yago is a powerful nemesis, and the government of this country pursues me relentlessly as if I were a threat or some prize specimen in a zoo." He sighed. "I am tired of coming to care for someone just to have to leave them."

"What would you do, Bennu? Forfeit you mission to be able to remain in one place? Concern yourself with only your wants and desires while those around you cry out for your help? No, I do not think so. When you were chosen it was with wisdom. They knew you would feel displaced and that it would be difficult. But they also knew you could not be so selfish when so much is at stake. Heal those around you, Bennu, for that is the only way you can heal yourself. Guide them and find your own way. It will not be easy. There are those who would stop you. But try you must; on this all depends."

It was these words that continued to reverberate in Bennu's mind throughout the next day. Mr. Pastani noticed his preoccupation but said nothing as the tireless young man went about the tasks at hand. Still, several hours later, he could not bear to keep his silence any longer.

"Bennu," he inquired with genuine concern, "is something troubling you?"

Bennu looked up, startled, so engrossed had he been in thought. Making a vain attempt to smile, he startled to reply "no", but instead found himself telling Mr. Pastani what he had told no other person of this planet, about his fears.

Mr. Pastani nodded understandingly as Bennu poured out his pent-up emotions (without going into great detail) of frustration and intense loneliness. Then, abruptly, Bennu stopped, astonished as he realized what he was doing. "Why," he asked himself, "have I allowed this man closer to me than I have ever allowed anyone else since..." Comprehension dawned as he remembered his father. Although a strong and imposing individual, his father had the gentlest of souls. It was in this respect that Mr. Pastani had reminded him of his father, thus allowing him to drop his normally guarded defenses.

Mr. Pastani's touch on his shoulder brought Bennu back to the present. "It hasn't been easy for you, has it, son? Momma and I have wondered why a man like yourself, who obviously cares about people a great deal, hasn't settled in one place. You know," he reflected, "since the death of my brother Momma, Angela and Mira are all I have left. They mean the world to me. I'd never be able to say good-bye to them. It'd just be too hard."

Mr. Pastani paused momentarily at the pained expression on Bennu's face, then quickly added, "But, you know, you really aren't leaving the people you care about behind. They're with you always, right here," he said, indicating his heart. "As you are to the people whose lives you've touched. I know this family will never be the same again for having known you."

Little did he realize how all too soon these words were too come true.

As Bennu uncrated the produce delivered late that afternoon, he felt a warm inner glow as he recalled Mr. Pastani's kind words. "They're all so kind," he reflected. "Surely there must be something I can do to help them. But what?" Slowly, the corners of his mouth began to turn upward as an inkling of an idea began to form.

Mr. Pastani watched in dismay as the clock on the wall ticked away the minutes. Soon Vega's men would arrive, expecting the weekly payment. "I must find a way to get Bennu away from the store for a while," he thought. "I don't want him involved in this." While desperately trying to come up with an idea, Bennu, as fate would have it, provided the solution.

"Mr. Pastani," Bennu asked, brow creased in concern. "Is everything all right?"

Startled, his head snapped up at the sound of Bennu's voice. "What...? Oh, yes, everything is fine. I was just thinking about how lucky I am to have such a wonderful family. And," he reached out to gently grasp Bennu's shoulder, "friends like you."

"I couldn't love you more if you were my own son," he thought as the unspoken words caught in his throat.

Picking up these thoughts, Bennu's eyes glistened as he too was overwhelmed. "And I you, my dear, dear friend. In you I have found the love of a father that has been denied me all these years."

The gentle ringing of the bell atop the door, announcing a customer, interrupted the moment.

Pulling back with a smile, Mr. Pastani nodded knowingly.

"Ah...I was wondering," Bennu asked almost apologetically, "if it would be all right if I took off for a little while. I've finished all the work in the back and there's really something I must take care of."

"Of course, son," Mr. Pastani replied, somewhat relieved. "I can take care of things here. You go do what you've gotta do."

With a nod of thanks, Bennu was out the door. Reaching below the counter Mr. Pastani felt for the gun he had hidden there. Secure at its touch, he turned toward the door and waited.

A gray dusk was settling on the city as its inhabitants hurried toward their destinations, while others stood on street corners talking, or in doorways watching with vacant eyes as life passed them by.

With the setting of the sun steadily declining temperatures became more apparent. All went unnoticed as Bennu headed toward the piano bar. He did not know if his quarry would be there, but it was a place to start looking.

Bennu tried to stop the overwhelming tidal wave of anger as he thought of Tony and what he had done, not only to Angela, but to Mira as well. "I must not face him with anger," he thought. "Through anger nothing can be accomplished." With great effort he forced the feeling down until only a touch of it remained like a cold hard knot in the pit of his stomach.

Only then did he become aware of the world around him -- of the cold, the pollutants in the air, and how extremely tired he felt. It seemed so long ago that he had last communed with the sun. Still, even if it were possible to do so now, he knew he would not take the time, for this task took precedence over everything, even that of his own well-being.

Turning the street corner, Bennu stopped as inner senses tugged at his compassion. There before him stood a short elderly woman. Dressed in what could only be described as bare, thin rags, she poked through a wire trash basket, searching for treasures which she proceeded to put into a worn brown shopping bag. While Bennu did not sense in her a feeling of despair or resentment, he did sense her hunger and pain as the cold crept into arthritic joints.

With a frown he watched her a moment, then knew he could proceed not further until he did something to help her. Spotting a diner just a few doors down, he hurried inside. Counting the few remaining coins left from the money Mr. Pastani had given him, Bennu was relieved to discover that he had enough to buy a coup of soup. Thanking the woman behind the counter, he quickly left with his purchase. By this time the old woman had completed her rummaging and was now seated on a nearby bus-stop bench, resting. Stooping down beside her he gently placed his right hand upon her shoulder, as the left brought the hot soup into the woman's view. Clasping the cup with withered hands, she turned to face Bennu. Their eyes met in silent understanding.

Taking a few moments for his eyes to adjust to the dimly lit interior, Bennu paused. Spotting Joshua he smiled, a feeling of kindredship enveloping him, for they shared something very special -- their love for music.

Joshua became aware of being observed. A smile lit his aging face as he spotted Bennu and invited him over.

"How ya doing, young fella?"

"I'm fine, Joshua." A slight frown creased Bennu's forehead as he observed Joshua rubbing apparently stiff fingers. "And you?"

"Oh I'll get by. Still time ain't been kind to these old bones of mine. If it weren't for the music I think I would have retired a long time ago."

"I know what you mean," agreed Bennu as he unconsciously, yet lovingly, fingered the piano keys.

"You play?" asked Joshua, then answered his own question. "Of course you do. I can see it written all over your face. It means a lot to you, doesn't it?"

A far-away look came into Bennu's eyes as he answered slowly, "Yes, music is one of the most precious things that we have. It's a shame that most people only hear the music instead of really listening to it. For it is truly one of the most beautiful and universal means of communication between..." He broke off, slightly embarrassed.

Tears glistened in Joshua's eyes as he smiled and nodded knowingly. Moving aside he offered Bennu the piano. Sliding onto the seat Bennu closed his eyes and began to play. The music, soft yet intense, filled the senses.

Joshua's mind drifted back in time, back to when he was a little boy.

The rays of the sun beat down upon his head, yet a delightful chill ran up his body as he dangled his feet in the cool river that drifted lazily by. A dragonfly darted past, disrupting the calm of the day; it settled on the water only to once again to take off in flight. Rings upon the water remained as the only evidence of his having been there. The bobbin on his homemade fishing pole moved with the unhurried current. The `caw-caw' of a blackbird in a nearby field resounded in his ears. He really didn't mind much that he had not caught anything. It didn't seem to matter as the boy and nature became one.

The bartender, who had been clearing some glasses, paused to listen as Bennu's melodic playing drove out all thoughts and pressures of business. He too remembered.

A vacant lot overgrown in some places yet thread-bare in others where the grass and weeds had been trampled by constant use. All around him children's voices rose in a rousing game of stick-ball. Finally it was his turn at bat. Perspiration beaded on his forehead as he shakily took his stance. An unspoken prayer of "Please Lord, let me hit this ball", fell silently in his mind. The pitch came before he was ready. He swung and missed. Catcalls and a loud, "I told you he was too little to play," reached reddening ears. He tried again, again he missed. Discontent amongst his own team members drowned out even the cruel remarks from the other team. One voice rose above the din, that of his older brother. "Aw, leave him alone. He's just a kid." Then his brother showed him how to choke up more on the stick. "You just never mind those guys. You're trying and I'm proud of you for it." Then, with a playful tug on the visor of his baseball cap, his older brother told him, "Go get `em. tiger." With renewed determination he once again took up the stick. Time seemed to move in slow motion as he watched the ball come toward him. He swung with all his might and...missed. Tears of frustration stung at his eyes as he threw down the stick.

"It's okay," his brother said, squatting down beside him. "I'll tell you what. Tomorrow, just you and I will work on batting practice, okay?" Not trusting words he merely nodded his approval as his big brother took his hand. "Come on, tiger. Let's go get an ice cream."

Hand in hand they left the lot as the other children called out taunting remarks.

The music lingered in the air for several minutes after Bennu ceased to play. Eyes clouded with remembrance cleared and focused on him. With a nod of approval they returned to what they had been doing.

"Young fella," said Joshua, shaking his head in disbelief. "Never in my life have I heard anything that beautiful. What was that you were playing? For that matter, where'd you learn to play like that?"

A sad smile shadowed Bennu's features. "It's called `Flight'. My mother taught it to me when I was very young."

"Well, I tell ya, son. You must be a musical genius to be able to play like that."

"No. Just someone who loves music." Memories too painful to bear overwhelmed him. He pushed them aside and turned to the task which had brought him here.

"Joshua, where could I find Tony? I've got to talk to him."

The graying man became alarmed. "There's nothing wrong with Angela, is there? Or Mira?"

"No, nothing like that." Bennu calmed his fears. "I've got to try and..." He paused, searching for the right words, "get through to him somehow. Make him realize all that he's giving up. Either that or..." Anger swelled to the surface.. "Give me a good explanation as to why he's deserted them like this."

"You really care about them, don't you?" It was more a statement than a question.

The fire that flared in Bennu's blue eyes when he spoke was now replaced with a warm gleam. "Yes, I do. The Pastanis', Angela, even Mira have been so kind to me. They've made me feel like a part of the family. Something I haven't felt in a very long time. I've got to at least try and help them if I can."

"I admire you for that, young fella, but I don't relish the idea of you tangling with Tony. He's a tough one and that gang of his is even more dangerous."

"I'll manage," Bennu assured him, rising.

"I bet you will, young fella," Joshua nodded admiringly. "I'll just bet you will. They hang out at an old warehouse on Paca."

Bennu thanked Joshua and once again moved out into the night. But not before he passed a flicker of the golden light into the piano keys. "That should help with the pain, my friend. Enjoy."

Standing there, debating which way to go, Bennu felt a tug at his pant leg. Glancing down, his questioning look grew into a smile as he saw a brown Chihuahua sitting at his feet looking up at him.

He knelt down. "Well, hello there. Why yes, I could use some help, Rocky..." Bennu tried to hide the grin that was threatening to escape. "Ah-- no, I don't find your name amusing, Rocky." He cleared his throat, stalling for time to gather his composure. "I think it's a fine name and very fitting."

Rocky, pleased at Bennu's answer, asked how he could help him.

"I'm trying to find the warehouse down on Paca where the Bandits can be found. Can you tell me how to get there?"

"I know the area well," Rocky related to Bennu. "There's a cute little fox terrier that lives in that neighborhood. Follow me, I'll take you there."

Bennu, still smiling from Rocky's remark about the fox terrier, thanked him but suggested that he give Rocky a lift. Wagging his tail in response, Rocky jumped into Bennu's outstretched arms and was soon warmly nestled beneath his jacket.

Following Rocky's directions, twenty minutes later Bennu stood outside the obscurely-lit warehouse. "Well, this is as far as you go, my little friend. Thank you." Bennu looked down into Rocky's anxious brown eyes. "Don't worry about me; I'll be fine. Why don't you see if you can find your terrier friend," he told Rocky with a wink. Setting him down, Rocky took off in a flash, then paused to turn and look at Bennu. "Yes, my little friend, I will be careful," Bennu replied. "And yes, I will call you if I need your help. I'm well aware that you can be very ferocious if the need arises. Now go, enjoy yourself." With a small bark of farewell Rocky disappeared into the darkness.

Entering the cavernous building, Bennu's senses were alert for trouble. An eerie silence hung heavy in the air as he proceeded into the center of the room. Suddenly, bright lights flooded the room, blinding him; his arms were seized roughly from behind. Bennu calmed his defensive reflexes. He had come here to talk. No one would come to harm tonight, not if he had anything to say about it.

"Let him go," a voice Bennu recognized as Tony's came out of the brightness. "And shut them lights off." Bennu was released as the harsh light was replaced with a less glaring one. Bennu began to make out shapes and faces as his eyes became adjusted to the new light. Tony stepped forward to address him. "You risked a lot just walking in here like this. What do you want?"

"I came here to talk to you."

"So talk."

Bennu eyes the others in the room. "I think it best if we have this conversation in private."

Tony considered his words. "Wait outside," he told the others.

"But Tony," Mario began to protest, but stopped short at the look Tony gave him. Grumbling, they filed out of the building but remained nearby in case Tony had need of them.

Tony looked defiantly at Bennu. "All right, we're alone. Say what you have to say, then get out."

"I want to know why you deserted Angela when she needed you, and why you've refused to acknowledge and support your daughter?"

Tony's temper flared. "It's none of your business!"

"They're my friends, so I'm making it my business."

"There has to be more to it than that," Tony accused with a sneer.

"Angela been giving you some freebies on the side? Is that why you're so concerned? I mean she is, after all, a hooker..."

Bennu's head shot up in anger, his inner light burning red. "Angela prostituted herself to support your daughter. No one should have to do that. But who are you to judge her? At least she's tried to give her daughter a decent life..."

"A decent life...," mocked Tony.

"What have you done?" challenged Bennu. "Nothing but run away from you responsibilities. Maybe you've done them a favor. They need a man to take care of them, not some boy pretending to be a man."

Tony had heard enough. He lunged at Bennu, who brushed him easily aside. Tony collided with a stack of empty crates. Hearing the racket, the Bandits came running. "No!" Tony yelled. Slowly he regained his feet while trying to staunch the flow of blood from his nose. They didn't listen.

Bennu poised for defense. "I said no!" He looked at Bennu in awe. "Leave him alone." The Bandits eyed Tony in disbelief. "This is between him and me." They relaxed. This was more like the Tony they knew. Tense seconds followed as Tony and Bennu silently stared at each other. The burning anger reflected in Bennu's eyes diminished. He spoke with quiet intensity.

"You loved her once. What happened to make you stop loving her?" Tony turned away, but not before Bennu saw what lay in his unspoken words. "You haven't, have you? You still love her. Then why?"

"Hey Tony, you want us to shut this guy up?" Danny, a tall, mustached youth, leered in Bennu's direction.

"No -- he's right," Tony grudgingly admitted.

"Then why?" implored Bennu.

Tony turned to face him. "You don't understand."

"You're right, I don't . Then Bennu saw it. What Tony had refused to face all this time. "You're afraid of losing someone else you love, like you did your parents. That's what the problem is, isn't it?" Bennu shook his head in disbelief. "Don't you realize you've done to yourself the very thing you've hoped to avoid? You have denied yourself the love of Angela and Mira because you were afraid of losing them. So, instead, you cut them from your life to avoid being hurt. But have you? And worse than that, look what you've done to them."

"Stop it!" begged Tony, unable to face the accusations that Bennu hurled at him. "Just stop it."

"You heard the man!" Mario said threateningly. "You'd better leave while you still can."

Bennu reluctantly agreed, although he had some final words for Tony.

"I almost feel sorry for you when I think of all you've given up in the name of fear, but then I think of Angela. Of the pain you've caused her. Of the courage she's shown in facing life instead of running from it. And of Mira, who will never know the love of a father. When I think of that I..." He couldn't say the words of disapproval and resentment that radiated within him. Instead, he walked away, leaving a stunned Tony in his wake.

Walking back to the store, Bennu's mind replayed the scene with Tony. He feared he had said too much. After all, how could he admonish Tony when he himself had felt very much the same way not too long ago. Still, the words have been spoken in anger and could not now be recaptured.

Had Bennu's mind not been on Tony he probably would have sensed it sooner, but now, as he drew closer to the little corner store, the feeling overwhelmed him. His face reflected shock and disbelief. Quickening his stride, he prayed that his feelings were wrong.

They weren't.

A single glance revealed the painful reality. The store lay in disarray as a sobbing Mrs. Pastani cradled her dying husband in her arms. Angela stood nearby, her cheeks wet with tears. Bennu knelt beside the old couple. His inner senses told him that even he could not help Mr. Pastani. His golden light was but a flicker. The sorrow which creased Bennu's brow was reflected in his eyes as he gazed down at the old man. Mr. Pastani's eyelids fluttered open. Seeing Bennu, he attempted a smile.

"Why?" Bennu cried softly.

"I looked in my heart and found what I thought was the right answer," he gasped. "Obviously I was wrong." His voice became weaker, interrupted by spasmodic coughing as life drained away. "I don't know who or what you are, but I do know that I've come to care for you a great deal. It's hard to say goodbye to those you love, but at least I'll be leaving them in good hands. Take care of them." The words were but a whisper as they came with his last breath. His eyes looked for the last time upon his wife.

Mrs. Pastani clutched her dead husband tightly, gently rocking him. Bennu sat back on his heels, stunned.

Bennu's vision became blurred with tears. "I will." He rose, turning. "It wasn't supposed to be like this," he cried, pain punctuating each syllable. He started for the door. Hate and a lust for revenge welled up inside him. He was met there by Tony, who sized up the situation at once.

"You see," he sobbed. "This is what happens every time you love someone."

Bennu was mad with grief. "Get out of my way. I don't have time to deal with your fears right now."

Tony, startled by the unrestrained tone of Bennu's voice, stepped aside.

"No, Bennu. Wait. Don't..."

Bennu paused at Angela words.

"Mrs. Pastani needs you now," she implored. "I need you."

Desperately he wanted to make them pay, but he could not ignore her plea, so for now he stayed.

The full impact of Bennu's words hit Tony with a striking blow. He looked at his aunt and uncle, both of whom he dearly loved. Now his uncle was lost to him forever. Then there was Angela, who had turned to a virtual stranger for comfort. He had lost her through his own stupidity and fear. Mira he had never even given a chance. Now it was too late. Head bowed in shame and regret, he turned to leave.

"Tony," Angela came to stand beside him, her eyes meeting his in love and understanding. "We need you, too." He glanced at his aunt, who nodded sadly in agreement. Slipping a comforting arm around Angela, Tony vowed that never again would he abandon her.

The days that followed were difficult ones for all concerned. The crushing blow had forced them to reevaluate their lives. Yet, it brought them closer together, as tragedies sometimes do.

Tony and Angela spent many hours talking, each striving to understand and accept the other for what they were. They talked of their fears and mistakes, and of a possible future together. Angela feared that Tony would never be able to forget and forgive her past life. Her fears were unfounded. Tony begged for forgiveness, for had his own inadequacies and fears not gotten in the way, she would never have been forced to turn to and suffer through such a life. In the end both not only understood and accepted the past, but looked to the future, one they would share together, with no reservations.

Mrs. Pastani took comfort in the knowledge that they had resolved their problems and would soon be getting married. Her only regret was that Mr. Pastani had not lived to see them reunited.

Bennu greatly admired Mrs. Pastani's strength. It was she who elected to try and explain to Mira what had happened. Not the truth, of course, for the child was much too young to be exposed to the harsh realities of the world and the cruelty of some of its inhabitants. No doubt that lesson would come much too early anyway. It was difficult for Mira to understand why the man who had been like a grandfather to her had gone away. She experienced confusion and a great sense of loss which, thankfully, was eased by the joy of her newfound father.

Aside from Mrs. Pastani, the tragedy was perhaps hardest on Bennu. These people, as so many on this planet had, had come to mean a lot of him. And although he had not pulled the trigger, he felt responsible for Mr. Pastani's death. Had he not been so intent on helping Angela perhaps he could have averted the tragedy. After all, he knew about the trouble with Vega. Why hadn't he helped? Why hadn't he been there when Mr. Pastani needed him. Day after day these questions continued to torment him. Even his daily communion with the sun brought little solace against the pain and guilt.

Mrs. Pastani, sensing this, spoke to him about it one cold, overcast day. Tony was downstairs running the store, which had just recently reopened for business. Angela and Mira had gone shopping for dresses for the upcoming wedding. Mrs. Pastani sat Bennu down at her old but comfortable kitchen table for a long -overdue talk.

"Bennu, it just breaks my heart to see you suffering like this. You are in no way responsible for what happened. You must not accept the blame. While it's true I wish things could have worked out differently, they haven't. What's done is done and no amount of wishing or regretting is going to change that.

Bennu went to look out the window, unable to look this dear woman in the face. When he finally spoke his voice trembled with emotion. "I know what you say is true, but I can't help but feel that if I had been here I could have prevented it."

"Perhaps that is true. But you were busy looking out after someone else you cared about that night. Tony told me," she explained. "You can't be in two places at once. I, for one, am very proud..." Bennu winced at the word. "... and grateful for what you have done for my nephew and Angela. But I'm especially grateful for what you have done for Mira. If Poppa were here he'd feel the same way, too."

Bennu appreciated her kind words but would not let the feelings of remorse go easily. He turned to face her, his cheeks wet "But it could have waited one more night. If I had been here when he needed me, you would not now be alone."

Mrs. Pastani went to him, stopping him before he could once more turn away from her. ""Yes, I wish Poppa were here. But it's not the quantity of time together; it's the quality.

Bennu recalled Laurel. Had he not in essence said the very same thing to her?

"Poppa and I had the very best. And I'm not alone. I have Tony and Angela and Mira." Taking his hand in hers, she smiled lovingly up to him. "And I have you. What woman or mother could want more?"

Overwhelmed, he hugged her tightly. "And what son could want more?" he thought. Mrs. Pastani fervently hoped she had eased some of Bennu's pain. But Bennu's face belied the inner emotions that kept taunting him.

After his talk with Mrs. Pastani, Bennu went to see if Tony needed any help. Some hard, honest work was what he needed right now. Something, anything, to help him escape his thoughts and himself. Entering from the rear of the store he noticed Bandits leaving.

"Trouble?" he asked Tony.

"Naw, the guys are okay. They were a little upset about me quitting the gang, but they understand."

Bennu's eyebrow arched in question. "Tony, maybe you could help me understand something."

Tony stopped, looking up from the cans he was stacking. "Sure, what is it?"

Bennu phrased his words carefully, with thought. "These gangs, why do kids join them?"

Setting the last can on the shelf, Tony stood up, wiping his hands on the apron wrapped around him. "I hadn't really given it much thought. But I guess a lot of it has to do with their home life. Most of the guys come from broken homes or poor families, where there's too many mouths to feed. Most have no fathers, or have fathers who are drunks or in jail. Some don't even have a mother. So, they turn to the gangs. There they have people who care about them. There's a sense of unity -- of family. They feel as though they belong, as though they mattered --were important..."

Bennu gave this some thought. "But wouldn't it be better to try and improve the situation at home? To find what they need within their own families rather than to turn to strangers?"

"I guess so, but as you've seen for yourself through my example," Tony explained, obviously embarrassed, "most of the guys aren't very mature. They don't know what to do about the situation, so they take the easiest way out. Or, like me, refuse to acknowledge the problem altogether."

Bennu conceded Tony's point with a knowing grin, then again became serious as he considered another question. "But the things that they do. The drinking and drugs. The stealing, the fighting, what do they get out of or hope to gain from that?"

Tony looked at Bennu quizzically, decided that he was serious, that he really wanted to know and was not just putting him on. Stalling for time to gather his thoughts, Tony walked over to a case of unmarked goods and started pricing them. After a moment, he spoke, his brows furrowed in thought. "They turn to the drinking and drugs for a lot of reasons. Peer pressure and acceptance, for one. But there are a lot of them that turn to it as a means of escape."

"Escape?"

"From the problems at home or maybe pressures at school. The every-day problems that seem so insurmountable to a kid." This didn't make sense to Bennu. After all, once the high or pleasure wore off, didn't the dependence on alcohol or drugs just create more problems?

"Yeah," replied Tony. "But by then it's too late. As for the stealing, there are various reasons for that too. You've got the ones that do it because it makes them feel important and they get a kick out of it. Then there are the ones who need the money to support their habits."

The look of sadness on Bennu's face had deepened as Tony explained. He had wanted to know, to learn, but the answers had only created more questions and deepened his concern for the people of this world.

Uncertainly, he proceeded with the next question. "And the fighting between the gangs?"

"That's usually because they're trying to protect their turf."

"Turf?"

"The area where they live," Tony explained. "They need to feel as though they have something in their life that they can call theirs. Something they can take pride in."

"Yet they deface it by spray painting graffiti all over the place and causing other damages."

Tony was unsure of how to respond. "I don't have the answers, Bennu. I guess nobody does."

Bennu had an idea. "Maybe I do."

"What?"

"What if someone showed them how to take pride in their turf?"

"How?"

"By getting them to stop spray painting and discouraging others as well. Get them to repair and improve things rather than destroy. By getting them to not only protect each other but the rest of the community as well..."

"You're thinking of Vega, aren't you?"

Bennu looked away. "Yes. He can't be allowed to get away with what he's doing. For what he did to..." His voice trailed away.

Concern shadowed Tony's face. "What are you going to do about it?"

"I don't know," Bennu answered quietly, then changed the subject. "The gangs, they need someone to teach them, to show them there's a better way."

"How about you?" Tony suggested. "After all, you did a pretty good job with me."

Bennu shook his head. "No, I'm not sure I could help them." He brightened. "But you know them. If anyone could teach them, you could."

Tony looked aghast. "Me? No, I don't think I'm the right person for the job."

"Why not? You've been teaching me."

"I don't know," Tony said, shaking his head. "It's not as easy as you make it sound. There are so many obstacles to overcome..."

"I didn't say it was going to be easy. Things in life worth anything seldom are." The minutes ticked by.

"I'll think about it," Tony said.

Bennu nodded. That was all he could ask.

Although the rest of the day was uneventful, an uneasiness hovered within Bennu, a premonition of things to come.

The heavenly aroma from Mrs. Pastani's latest culinary delight drifted downstairs. Catching Tony's attention, he smiled in anticipation. Had Bennu not been so besieged by guilt he would have taken pride in the change that had come about in Tony. He was turning into everything Bennu knew he could be and everything Mr. Pastani had hoped he would become.

"What?" Bennu was startled out of his contemplations.

"I said, even if my stomach weren't telling me that it's suppertime, the clock on the wall is. I suggest we close up shop."

"Um," Bennu nodded in agreement.

Tony shook his head sadly. He knew what was troubling Bennu but had no idea how to help him. "I'll start bringing in the produce from outside."

When no response was forthcoming from Bennu, Tony headed for the door. But before he reached it the door burst open and in walked the man he knew as Rico, followed by another whose name he didn't know, and finally by Frank Vega himself. Rico pushed Tony firmly backwards into the store. Bennu, rising to his full height from the counter he was leaning against, subdued Tony, who was obviously preparing to rush the me. One look from Bennu was all it took to warn Tony against such action. Tony stepped reluctantly back into place.

Bennu eyed the men evenly, desperately trying to control the anger that, even now, threatened to overwhelm him. "What is it you want here?" he asked them coolly

Vega, a rather repulsive-looking man, stepped forward. "Since you obviously know who I am I'll dispense with the amenities and get right to the point. What happened here was unfortunate. And being the nice guy that you I am I've allowed you some time to get over your loss. But I'm here to tell you that nothing has changed and you are now three payments behind."

Tony started to protest. "Why, you dirty..."

Vega continued as if uninterrupted. "Now, I realize that you may have had some expenses, what with the funeral and all, so I'm giving you until tomorrow to come up with the cash."

Bennu's calm voice denoted his seething anger. "You can come tomorrow, the day after that and the day after that, but you'll never see a red cent from these people ever again. You're through here, Vega."

Reaching up to scratch his short stubby neck, Vega, at first seemed amused by Bennu's words. Then, as he realized that Bennu was serious, he became angry. "You know, I'd really hate to see another unfortunate incident occur."

"I'm not afraid of you," Bennu told him.

"Well now," smirked Vega. "I didn't say that you would necessarily be the recipient, now did I? You may not care what happens to you, but what about your young friend here, or the old lady. Then, of course, there's always that pretty lady of yours," he shot Tony a meaningful look. "Or perhaps the little girl..."

Tony had heard enough. Bennu, recognizing the danger, called on the golden light. What followed would be incomprehensible to Tony later as he tried to recall it. Unclear images of a bright light, of Vega and his men being tossed about as if by some unseen hand. The sound of a shot whose bullet went awry, of smoldering guns lying about the floor. Then everything was still.

Bennu shook Tony out of his state of shock. "Find something to tie them up with."

Tony produced a length of nylon cord. As the last knot was tied, Mrs. Pastani, and Angela with Mira in her arms, peered cautiously around the doorway. Breathing a sigh of relief, Mrs. Pastani gave them both a hug.

"We were so scared," Angela told them, "when we heard all the commotion."

Bennu smiled reassuringly. "It's all right. Everything's fine. Vega will never bother you again."

He paused, listening to a voice that called out to his mind. "Bennu, if you can hear me, you have got to leave." It was Preminger. "I've stalled them as long as I can, but they're on their way."

Mrs. Pastani caught his preoccupied look. "Is there something wrong, dear?"

Bennu turned to Tony with a sense of urgency. "Call the police and tell them what happened. And don't handle any of the guns. My guess is that one of them is the one that killed Mr. Pastani. The fingerprints should point out who's responsible."

Tony nodded, then proceeded to do as Bennu asked. In the meantime Bennu went into the back room and returned with his belongings. He went to Mrs. Pastani and, taking her hands, explained, "I can't stay. There are men after me. They want to..."

"It's all right. I understand," she told him, eyes glistening. "You do what you have to. Just remember that you always have a home and family here with us."

Bennu bent and kissed her lightly on the cheek. "Thank you, Momma," he whispered.

Next he turned to Angela. "You're one heck of a lady," he told her, smiling. "Take care of yourself."

"I don't know how to begin to thank you for all you've..."

He hushed her. "The look in your eyes is thanks enough. Goodbye." He glanced at Tony. "The Bandits?"

"I'll try." He shook Bennu's hand, sealing the agreement.

Next came the hardest goodbye of all. He stooped down in front of Mira, who stood there looking forlorn. "Sunshine, I..." The words didn't come out but the tears did as he hugged the little girl to him.

"You'll come back, won't you?" she asked, voice quavering.

He pulled back and looked at her. "Of course I will," he gently assured her. "But even when I'm not here, I'll still be with you. As you, all of you..." he glanced at the others, "...will be with me."

"Bennu, hurry. We're almostthere!"

"I love you," Mira told him.

"And I love you too, Sunshine," he replied, giving her one last hug. With a final wave, he disappeared into the night.

From an unseen vantage point Bennu watched as several cars pulled up in front of the store, followed by even more police cars. Even in the dim light cast by the neon signs he could make out the shape of Justin Preminger. He sent him a mental call. "Thank you for warning me, my friend."

Preminger responded. "I'm just glad you got away. Where will you go now?"

Bennu smiled. "To wherever the light calls."

Hitching the duffel bag higher onto his shoulder he began walking and was soon lost in the bustling crowds of the city of Baltimore.